Scout's Honor
by owlcroft
Summary: A twenty-dollar bet with an unusual pay-off.


Many thanks to two people with bigger problems to deal with than my little stories.

SCOUT'S HONOR

by

Owlcroft

"Hah!" puffed a triumphant Hardcastle. "Twenty-one points and twenty bucks!"

McCormick shook his head in resignation as he did a little puffing of his own. "Yeah, yeah. Twenty bucks. Hey!" He held up his arm hopefully. "You wanna make it double on nothing on a pulse count?"

The judge straightened up, hands on the small of his back. "I think I'm gonna settle for a win at this point. Fork it over, sport." He proffered his palm and a large grin.

"Well, I don't have it on me." Mark waved at the loft window. "I'll bring it over after a shower, okay? Can you wait that long?" He raised an ironic brow.

Hardcastle nodded, collecting the ball and turning toward the main house. "Only about ten minutes to breakfast, ya know. Sarah's making pancakes this morning so hustle it up here."

McCormick grinned back. "With bacon? I'll be there in nine minutes."

ooooo

Sarah looked at Mark's plate with resignation. "I'll just start a few more for His Honor," she murmured.

The judge, sniffing appreciatively, entered just as she turned back to the stove. "Nothing like a good work-out before a hearty breakfast." He pulled out his chair, sat, then noticed a distinct lack of pancakes. "Sarah, where's –?"

"They'll be ready in just a couple of minutes. Here," she handed him the platter of bacon. "I kept this out of Mark's reach."

Hardcastle noticed the syrupy grin across the table and decided not to respond to it. "Hey, speaking of things that are missing, where's that twenty you owe me?" He forked a generous portion of bacon onto his plate.

McCormick swallowed a large bite and reached for his glass of orange juice. "Just a sec." He swigged juice, then set down the glass and started to dig into his jeans pocket.

"Not now. You probably got butter and stuff all over your hands." The judge waved him back to his meal and took a sip of coffee. "Stick it under the phone on the hall table when you're done. And remember, you gotta pick up those bark chips this morning. I called in the order yesterday and it's already on the credit card, okay?"

"Right after breakfast," was the reply. "I don't suppose," Mark looked at Sarah as she handed Hardcastle a steaming stack of pancakes, "there are any more?"

The diminutive housekeeper suppressed a smile, then assumed an admonitory expression, and turned back to the stove.

ooooo

Just as the last of the eight forty-pound bags of redwood bark hit the ground, the judge came around the corner of the garage.

"Need any help?" he called.

"Yeah, thanks," said McCormick dryly. "You can put up the tailgate. And here's the receipt." He held out a small slip of paper.

Hardcastle pocketed it, then glanced up sharply. "Hey, I've been busy. I was looking at that fence over by the side road. Oh, and I'll take that twenty now." He stuck out a hand.

Mark eyed him with a slight squint. "I put it under the phone, like you said."

"Ho, ho. C'mon, hand it over."

"Hardcase, listen to me. Listen _carefully_ now. I _put _it," he enunciated clearly, "under the _phone_. On the hall table. Okay?" He gave up waiting for the older man and put up the truck's tailgate himself.

The judge crossed his brawny arms and scowled ferociously. "You never know when the joke's over, do ya? Very funny, I already laughed, so knock off the goofy stuff and cough up the dough."

McCormick sighed deeply, then leaned against the fender of the truck. "Why are you not listening to me. Did you even _look _under the phone?"

"What I'm listening to is a guy who sounds like he's trying to welsh on a bet here!" Hardcastle's voice rose a tad and the color of his face rose right along with it. "You think this is some kinda scam you can run or something? 'Cause you're wrong! You lost, so pay up!"

"Look, I've always paid up when I lost, even when you pull some of that 'rules are for other people' garbage! I put up with your flying elbows and knees all over the place," Mark straightened up and pointed an accusatory finger at the judge, "and I always pay up, faster than you usually do when _you _lose, I might add."

"Oh, yeah? Well, I notice you're giving just as good you're getting! You wanna talk about elbows, huh? I've had plenty of those in _my _ribs and I've always had the pay-off right in my pocket – none of this 'later' crap!" Hardcastle uncrossed his arms and advanced a step. "I musta figured you wrong, McCormick. I thought you were really making an effort here, but it's the same old con, isn't it? I even let you get back into racing --"

"Let me get back into racing? _That's_ a laugh! You sabotaged my drive right from the start with your witch hunt! Okay," Mark held up a palm, "Denny Collins was a bad guy and needed to be brought down, but you coulda waited until after the race! But no-o-o, not Hardcase Hardcastle! The Lone Ranger doesn't cut Tonto any slack; he just accuses him of weaseling on a bet! So," Mark folded his own arms at this point, "you're calling me a liar. No, even better, you're accusing me of theft! Or breaking a contract, so I guess that's a parole violation, huh, _Your Honor_?"

The judge's scowl deepened and became fiercer. "Yeah, smart guy, it could be! You wanna stick to your little prank now? All I gotta do is make one phone call and you're heading back north on the bus."

"You listen to me, you bone-headed Arkansas donkey, I put that money under the phone!" Suddenly, Mark threw up his chin, narrowing his eyes at Hardcastle. "Oh, I get it. You just want some excuse to get rid of me, huh? You probably have that twenty in your pocket right now, don'tcha? All this," he waved a wide arm, "is just play-acting, am I right?"

Hardcastle shook his head in self-pity. "I thought I was getting to know you. I thought you were different, that you were a guy that needed a hand up, a little help. How dumb can I be, anyway? You're just like the rest of 'em after all."

An incensed McCormick retorted loudly. "Oh, yeah? Well, I was actually starting to _like _you a little bit! What kind of a fool does that make _me_? What a jerk I am!"

"Well, I was a bigger jerk to ever put any trust in you! You're never gonna change –"

"A-_hem_," said Sarah from the kitchen stoop. "Now that you've made a competition out of who's a bigger fool, I thought I'd interrupt you both to say two things." She cast a stern eye at the suddenly silent twosome before her. "First, I used that twenty dollar bill Mark left under the phone to buy cookies from a Girl Scout who came to the door just a little while ago. Second, I got some sandwich cookies for Mark, and some of those shortbreads you like so much, Your Honor. I bought," she added with a dignified air, "two boxes of Thin Mints for myself." She turned to the kitchen door and smiled a tiny smile. "And there's fresh coffee."

The silence continued after Sarah was inside. It was finally broken by the judge, who coughed slightly, then muttered, "I, uh . . . guess I kinda jumped to a conclusion there."

McCormick nodded, then shuffled a bit before saying, quietly, "Yeah, well, I kinda jumped too, I guess. I mean, maybe I said some stuff I shouldn't've. Maybe." He peeped sideways at the judge. "I should have figured you really didn't find the money there and . . . um, maybe that Sarah had it."

"Yeah, I shoulda thought of that, too." Hardcastle sighed and shook his head. "Looks like we both went a little off the deep end." He studied the tips of his boots, then suddenly brightened. "She said shortbread, right?"

Mark smiled at him. "They're good, huh? She said sandwich cookies, too. I wonder if they're chocolate or vanilla."

"I know one way to find out. Swap you a coupla shortbreads for some sandwich cookies?" The judge looked at the younger man hopefully.

A thoughtful McCormick gazed into the distance. "Yeah, okay. If they're vanilla. If they're chocolate, I wanna taste them before I decide on swaps." He grinned and added, "But shortbread sounds awfully good, too. Hey, what're Thin Mints like?"

"Good," replied the judge solemnly. "_Real _good. You never had 'em?"

"No, but twenty bucks says I can get some of them from her." Mark started up the stairs, looking back at his betting partner.

"You're on!" was the instant response.

_finis_


End file.
